


Behind the Scenes

by hopelocklet



Series: A Secret (for the most part) Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, Time Skips, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelocklet/pseuds/hopelocklet
Summary: Companion to The Interview Series: You get to see how Draco and Harry live while off camera, meaning that the whole thing is basically tooth-rotting fluff and domesticity.





	Behind the Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> I intended to write a scene for every little blurb in the Interview Series, but that's not happening anymore, so here's as much of it as I got done. Also, this is very, very cheesy and fluffy so I hope you like stuff like that!  
> (I don't think you need to read the companion fic to understand this one, but it would certainly help)

_ 6:44 PM Feb. 20, 2004. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy’s shared flat on Fine Alley. _

Harry is cooking when Draco gets home. Draco smiles at the sight of him standing at the stove, swaying slightly to the Muggle music he insists on playing from his Muggle radio. The curls he’s been growing out for the past few months are tied back into a bun and, to Draco’s delight, he’s wearing the custom designed apron that Draco gave him for Valentine’s Day. Draco thinks that was one of his more clever gifts, and he’s quite proud that he came up with the saying “I’m Harry Chef-ing Potter,” which is printed on the front of the apron.

“I knew you secretly liked the apron,” Draco says by way of greeting as he shrugs off his coat and sends it to the coat closet with a quick spell.

“Do not,” Harry responds automatically, but he’s smiling when he looks over his shoulder at Draco.

“Then why are you wearing it? For the second time this week, I might add.”

“Because you gave it to me and it makes you happy when I wear it. You know, kind of like how you wear the t-shirts I give you to make me happy.”

“Are you talking about the pajamas you gave me?”   
“For the millionth time, they weren’t meant to be pajamas. You just decided that they weren’t daytime worthy.” Harry turns back to the stove and starts stirring whatever’s in the saucepan. Draco plants himself on the counter next to the stove so he can look at Harry while he talks to him. Harry’s told him over and over that he shouldn’t sit on the counter because he could burn himself on the stove, but Draco never listens. 

“It’s not your fault you don’t understand my style, love.”

“Since you’re literally wearing shoes with bows on them right now, I’m not sure I want to understand your style.”

“Hey! They’re-”

“Designer, I know. Everything you wear is designer.”

“Except for my pajamas,” Draco reminds Harry with a wink.

Harry rolls his eyes. He turns off the stove and fetches two bowls from the cabinet before going to the sink, where a large bowl of pasta sits. Draco watches as Harry fills the bowls with pasta and then returns to the stove to pour the sauce over the pasta. 

“Are we watching telly while we eat tonight?” Draco asks after Harry hands him his meal and a fork.

“I don’t know, I think we’ve already missed the big TV event of the day.”

Draco quirks an eyebrow at Harry, who shakes his head and laughs. 

“You, the most self-obsessed person on the planet, forgot that your own interview was broadcast today?” Harry says, laughing when Draco’s expression instantly turns to shock.

“That was today? I didn’t- I thought it was later. Like, in a couple days or something. Harry, stop laughing! I didn’t even get to see it.”

“Well, luckily for you, I did, and I can relay the whole thing to you over dinner.” Harry sets his bowl and fork on the dining table and pulls out the chair across from his place for Draco to sit in. 

Draco is frowning as he sits down, but he manages to say, “Thanks, love,” to Harry as the other man returns to his side of the table.

Harry examines Draco’s expression from across the table. “Are you really that upset?”

Draco sighs, and he starts poking at his food. “No, I’m just being dramatic. But, I mean, it was an important interview, and I talked about the book tour, and I did want to see it.”

“Well, our DVR’s not set up yet, so I didn’t get to record it, but I told Ginny and Pansy and Ron and Dean and Oliver and Luna and a whole lot of other people to watch it and record it, so hopefully one of them remembered and we can get a recording from them.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“You’re insane. You told everyone you know to record my interview? That’s crazy, I didn’t ask you to do that.”

Harry shrugs and takes a bite of his meal. “‘M proud of you.”

Draco pulls one of Harry’s hands away from his meal and kisses it. “You’re the best fucking boyfriend in the world, you know that?”   
“Funny,” Harry says after Draco releases his hand. “That’s not what you said in your interview.”

“What? I didn’t say anything bad about you.”   
“You said I’m bloody infuriating,” Harry points out.

“Well, I mean, Harry, if we’re being honest here-”

“Oh, shut up!” Harry interjects, laughing, and Draco laughs too.

“Seriously, though,” Draco says. “Did you listen to any of the nice things I said about you after that?”

“Oh, you mean how you said I’m funny and kind and the best person you’ve ever met?”

“I also said you’re fit.”

“I know. I heard all of that, and I wanted to jump through the screen and snog your face off.”

“Well, obviously,” Draco says, preening.

“You looked really good in that jacket you were wearing, too, which only made me want to kiss you more.”

“The Alexander McQueen jacket? Yeah, I know. Think of me wearing that before you make any more jabs at my style.”

“I’ll try, I promise. Hurry up with your dinner so I can finally give you that snog.”

_ 9:58 PM Feb. 28, 2004. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy’s shared flat on Fine Alley. _

“Draco? It’s about to start!” Harry calls to Draco from the couch in their living room. 

The TV screen flashes brightly and the speakers blare, “The Reuben Sharp Show, up next on The Charmcenter Channel!”

“I know, I’m coming!” 

Draco gets to the living room just as Reuben Sharp’s introductory theme music draws to a close.

“Did I miss anything?” he asks as he hands Harry his mug of tea and goes to settle on the other side of the couch with his own mug.

“Just the shitty theme song.”

“Thank Merlin. My ears have already been bleeding from listening to you all day, they don’t need to be put through more suffering.”

Harry kicks Draco lightly. “Stop it, pay attention to the show. I’m about to come on.”

When Harry does show up on screen, Draco lets out a whistle. When Harry shushes him, Draco ignores it. “I told you that you were born to wear Brooks Brothers. I was right,” he says.

“Huh, and here I thought I was born to defeat Voldemort.”

“No, definitely the Brooks Brothers thing.”

“Would you be quiet? Listen to the interview.”

A couple of minutes later, Draco speaks up again. “You answered that question really well.”

“Thanks.”   
“And you looked damn good while answering it.”

“Draco,” Harry says, trying to speak in a serious voice. “Stop checking out television me.”   
“Can’t help it. He’s gorgeous.”

“You can admire him at a later time, but-”

“Hold on. He just asked you about Ginny. Did he say something about running into her in the locker room? Was that supposed to be funny?”

“Apparently.”

Draco snorts. A moment passes, then Reuben asks about Draco. Harry watches his boyfriend for his reaction.

“A lot of buzz about us, interesting,” Draco comments, eyes stuck on the screen. He smiles when he sees television Harry smile. “That’s cute, you look like you have a crush on me,” he says. Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m brilliant and I’m a good friend? That’s it?” Draco asks, finally taking his eyes off the screen to look at the real Harry.

“Well, you are. Brilliant. And a good friend.”

“I was under the impression we were more than just good friends, Potter.”

“Sorry, was this a bad time to break it to you?” 

Draco laughs, one of those loud, full laughs that Harry loves, and Harry sets his tea on an end table so he can crawl over to Draco and cuddle with him. Once Draco has his arms around Harry, he says in his ear, “I hope you know this is a really bad way to friendzone someone.”

Harry just laughs and presses himself closer to Draco. 

 

_ _

_ 1:26 PM Mar. 13, 2004. Outside of Blaise Zabini’s fashion show venue in Paris. _

“Pansy, I can’t believe you left me with that interviewer. She’s a halfwit,” Draco scolds Pansy as she sips her champagne and looks around at the other celebrities present with a bored gaze. 

“Why do you think I got out of there as fast as I could?”

Draco sighs and eyes Pansy’s drink. “Where can I get one of those?”

“There’s a guy walking around with a tray.”

“I don’t see him.”

“Probably because I took the last glass,” Pansy says with a smirk.

Draco pouts. “Seriously, Pans? I deserve some alcohol. That interviewer kept asking me about Harry. Not one question about what I’m wearing.”

“The nerve,” Pansy deadpans, smiling when Draco rolls his eyes. “Here, darling, have a sip. You need it more than me.” Draco takes the glass with a grateful smile. “Especially since your date stood you up,” Pansy adds, and Draco’s smile is gone.

“Harry is coming. He promised.”

Pansy gives him a doubtful look. “Sure he is.”

“He’ll be here,” Draco insists. “I even picked out his outfit.”

“Whatever you say, dearie.”

“You need to stop with the pet names.”

“Why’s that, pumpkin?” Pansy asks, laughing at the sneer Draco gives her. 

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Aw, my poor Drakey-kins is embarrassed. Whatever shall I do?”   
“Stop calling me Drakey-kins, for one,” Draco whispers.

Pansy laughs as Draco looks around to see if anyone heard Pansy. 

“Not gonna happen, Drakey-kins.”

“You know what?” Draco says defiantly. He downs the rest of the champagne, then hands the glass to Pansy. This only makes Pansy laugh more. 

“Wow. Tough guy. Come on, let’s go inside and find our seats. Maybe they’ll have more champagne in there.”

_ 1:48 PM Mar. 13, 2004. Venue of Blaise Zabini’s fashion show in Paris. _

“Well, this is depressing,” Pansy says with a sigh that makes her sound like her fourteen year old self, whining to Draco about how some sixth year didn’t like her back.

“What’s depressing?”   
“Do you not see what I see? We’ve got empty chairs on either side of us. One of which belongs to your absent boyfriend-”

“He’s coming,” Draco feels the need to interject.

“-and another which is reserved for one Mr. Theodore Nott, who’s obviously not going to show. Honestly, why did Blaise even reserve him a seat?”   
“Because he’s Blaise. He can never get his head out of his arse long enough to realize that his relationship is in trouble.”

Pansy raises an eyebrow at Draco. “That’s harsh.” 

“It’s true.”

“You’re just upset because Harry is late.”   
“Oh, so you admit that he’s not bailing, he’s just late.”   
“Whatever. Neither of those are good.”

“Can we go back to judging Blaise’s relationship instead of mine?”   
“But Blaise is boring,” Pansy whines, again sounding fourteen. “He’s been with Theo on and off since they were, like, twelve. They’ll get back together in a few months.”

“Maybe not. There was that time that they were split up for two years.”

Pansy shakes her head resolutely. “We are not going to talk about those dark times.”

“Please don’t start going on about how it was so hard to organize events back then.”

“Hey! You don’t know my pain, Malfoy. I throw all the birthday parties, all the Christmas and New Years parties, all the wedding showers. It was an absolute nightmare keeping track of who was on Blaise’s side and who was on Theo’s.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “My apologies for insulting your deeply troubling tribulations.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Pansy says, without bite.

“No, that’s my job.” Harry has suddenly appeared next to Draco with a cheeky grin and Draco-approved suit.

“Harry! I knew you’d make it.” Draco is beaming as he leans into the cheek kiss that Harry gives him. “And you’re wearing what I picked out!”

“‘Course I am, love. Sorry I’m late, there was an interviewer and-”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to explain,” Draco says before turning back to Pansy with an I-told-you-so look. 

“Hi, Pansy,” Harry greets her.

Pansy smiles saccharinely at Harry. “Harry, dear, don’t listen to anything Draco tells you. I had total faith that you’d show up the whole time.” 

“Not true,” Draco whispers in Harry’s ear as he takes his hand and leans back in his chair to look at the runway.

Harry smiles and squeezes Draco’s hand. 

 

_ 5:05 PM Apr. 2, 2004. Bookshop, “Cuore di Libri,” in Milan, Italy. _

Draco stretches as he gets out of the chair he’s been sitting in for the past few hours while signing books. He walks over to where his assistant, Amelia, is talking to the photographer for the book signing, and yawns loudly to catch Amelia’s attention, effectively disrupting her conversation.

“Draco,” Amelia says, voice tinted with irritation. “Did you need something? I’m just telling Edvard here where he can send the photos he took today.”   
“I need sustenance. I haven’t eaten since eleven this morning.”

Amelia rolls her eyes, but Edvard huffs in amusement. “We have a dinner reservation at 6:30. You’ll be fine until then, I’m sure,” Amelia tells Draco.

“Do you want me to faint?” Draco asks, sounding offended.

Amelia ignores him. “I’m sorry, Edvard. Draco gets a little grouchy after signings. Do you need any other information?”   
“No, I’m good. Thanks, Amelia. Nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy,” Edvard says, nodding at the two of them.

“Nice meeting you too, Edvard. Thanks for your work today,” Draco calls after the photographer as he leaves the bookshop. As soon as he’s gone, Amelia turns to Draco with an exasperated frown. 

“Would it kill you to act professional for once?” Amelia chides him.

“I’ve been professional all day. Now I just want an omelette.”

“Really? Because that tie you’re wearing seems to contradict your professionalism. What the hell is that print anyways?”

“Roman Gods. Very Italian, don’t you think?”

Amelia makes a face at Draco. “It’s ridiculous. I thought we talked about modifying your wardrobe.”   
“You’ll have to pry Versace from my cold, dead hands.”

Amelia laughs and shakes her head. “For some reason, I don’t think you’d give up any of your clothes even if you were dead,” she says as she heads to the back room where her and Draco’s things are.

“Probably not,” Draco agrees. He follows Amelia into the room and immediately goes for his backpack, fishing through his things for his phone. Once he finds it, he reads his messages with a huge smile on his face. 

Amelia smirks as she watches Draco type a message back to someone. “Harry texted you something sweet?”

Draco nods absentmindedly, not looking up from his phone. When he’s done typing, he slips the phone back into his bag and looks up at Amelia. “You know, it was funny how many people asked me about him today. Or not really about him, but about who Lou was based off of.”

“What did you tell them?” Amelia has just gotten all of her things together, and she leads Draco out the backdoor of the shop to the car that will take the two of them to their hotel.

“That they were all wrong. Lou isn’t based on Astoria or Harry, the character’s actually based on my fabulous assistant, Amelia Holtman,” Draco answers as he holds the door of the car open for Amelia.

Amelia laughs and slides over to make room for Draco in the back of the car. “I’m sure my husband would love seeing that on the cover of a magazine.” 

Draco pulls the door of the car closed before closing his eyes and leaning back like he’s ready to take a nap. “I’m sure Marco will get over it,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“Yes, I suppose he and Harry can comfort each other while dealing with the news. Maybe they’ll even find love like the two of us,” Amelia teases.

That makes Draco open his eyes, and he glares at Amelia while she laughs. “This joke isn’t funny anymore, I’ve decided.”

“Don’t glare at me. It was your joke in the first place, not mine.”

“Whatever,” Draco says, shutting his eyes again.

“You really are grouchy after interviews. We better get you that omelette.”

“Hallelujah.”

_ 7:34 AM Apr. 13, 2004. Wizarding International Hotel: Barcelona. _

Sunlight starts to filter into Draco’s hotel room through the window. Half asleep, he uses a spell to pull the curtains shut. He reaches his arm out to the right side of the bed, searching for Harry’s warm body so he can cuddle up next to him and fall back into a pleasant, dream-filled sleep. When Draco realizes Harry’s not there, he groans loudly.

“Harry?” he calls, voice muddled as his face is still pushed against his pillow.

“Yeah?” Harry answers. He appears in the doorway to the bathroom, towel around his waist and toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Draco cracks his eyes open to look at his boyfriend.

“You left the bed,” Draco says accusingly.

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, as if he’s missing the point. “This is a problem because?”   
“It’s too bloody early,” Draco states like it should be obvious.

Harry rolls his eyes and returns to the bathroom. When he comes back out, the toothbrush is gone. He settles on the edge of the bed and tucks Draco’s hair behind his ear with a fond smile on his face.

“We should go back to sleep,” Draco says.

Harry shakes his head and leans down to press a kiss to Draco’s forehead. “Sorry, love. I’ve got to leave soon. Oliver and Ginny are helping me find a stadium for the match today.” 

“In England?” 

“Yes, in England.”

Draco frowns and finally sits up so he can look at Harry as they talk. Harry’s noticed that’s something Draco does a lot- move so he can always be face to face with Harry while they speak. 

“Can’t you do that tomorrow?” Draco asks with begging puppy dog eyes. 

“No, tomorrow I’m meeting Tilly Rowe, the dancer. She wants to be a Beater in the match.”

“How soon do you have to leave?”

“I should be at the International Floo Network in an hour.”

Drac sighs exaggeratedly. “Why does it have to be so fucking early?”   
Harry laughs. “I don’t know. Ginny decided the time. Quidditch players, you know? Always ruining everything.”

“You can say that again.”

Harry smiles and gets up from the bed. Draco watches as he gets dressed with a look of longing.

“Well, when are we going to see each other next? Lisbon?” Draco asks hopefully. 

Harry winces. “I don’t think I can make it to Lisbon anymore. I’m still looking for players, and I need to find someone to film the promos and advertisements for the match.”

“Are we going to see each other at all before I come back home?”

Harry furrows his brow and thinks as he pulls on a jumper. “Malfoy Manor’s Floo reaches Ireland, right?”

Draco nods. “I think so.”

Harry, now fully dressed, plops down on the bed next to Draco. “Then I’ll meet you in Dublin and we can come back to England together.”

Draco laughs. “There’s no way my parents will let you use their Floo.”

Harry fakes an expression of confusion. “Your parents adore me.” 

“My father despises you and my mother thinks you don’t really love me.”   
“Maybe I should show your mother my tattoos, then,” Harry suggests. He leans back against the headboard of the bed and pulls up his sleeve, revealing an assortment of tattoos, at least three of them being ones that correspond to tattoos Draco has. “That’ll convince her that I love you for sure.” 

Draco eyes Harry doubtfully. “They won’t make sense without mine to compare them to.”

Harry smirks. “Then I’ll just show her the tattoo I got of your initials. Or the constellation one.”

“I think the last thing my mother wants to see is you shirtless.”

“Nonsense. I’m Harry Potter. Everyone wants to see me shirtless.”

“You’ve gotten awfully arrogant over the years, you know that?” Draco says. He lies back down, resting his head on Harry’s lap, looking up at him with a smile and bright, mirthful eyes.

“Probably because I’ve spent too much time with you.”

“Too much time? I don’t think you’ve spent  _ enough  _ time with me.”

“You’re right. I could never spend enough time with you.”

“Hm, that’s nice,” Draco mumbles. He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly, enjoying the moment. 

After a minute or so, Harry speaks up. “So, we’ve still got a while before I have to leave. What should we do?” Draco’s eyes open and he smiles wickedly. “Nothing dirty,” Harry clarifies, and Draco frowns.

“Well, I suppose we could get some scones. And coffee? From the coffee shop in the lobby?”

“We could, but won’t it take you an hour to become presentable?”   
Draco shakes his head. “I’ll just wear something of yours, and get dressed for the day later.”

“Will there be paps?”

“No, the hotel management is very strict about the guests’ privacy here. We’re safe.”

“Okay. Let’s go then. You do realize you’ll have to get up if you want to go?”   
Draco sighs. “I know. Let me gather my strength.”

Harry laughs. “What strength?”   
Draco hits Harry with a pillow, knocking Harry’s glasses askew. “With that strength, you pillock,” Draco says forcefully, but Harry’s laughing, and soon Draco’s laughing too.

_ 7:07 PM Apr. 24, 2004. Jada Farrow’s flat in Dublin, Ireland. _

“Thanks so much again, Draco. You have no idea how much this interview means to me and the people who follow me,” Jada tells Draco as she shuts off her camera and lighting.

Draco, who’s been inspecting the books on Jada’s many bookshelves, nods in acknowledgement of her thanks. He’s more focused on the synopsis of a biography of Salazar Slytherin than Jada’s words. “No problem. Hey, do you have any other biographies of Slytherin? I’m fairly certain I’ve read this one.”

Jada purses her lips. “Let me see,” she says, and she goes to the corner of her library/filming room where there are crates of books that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelves. Jada’s sifting through volumes from a series of biographies called “Most Wicked Wizards Ever Known” when Amelia pops her head into the room.

“Draco? There’s someone here to see you,” Amelia says.

Draco puts the book he was looking at back in its place and turns to Amelia with a confused frown. “Who?”

Jada abandons her task to look to Amelia as well. “Someone came here- to my flat- to see Draco Malfoy? Who even knows he’s here?”   
Amelia just smiles at the both of them. “Don’t worry, I’m the one who told him you were here. He’s friend, not foe. I’m gonna send him in, okay?”

“Wait, is it-” Draco starts to ask, but Amelia is gone not a second later, and Draco and Jada are left to look at each other with puzzled expressions. 

“What’s going on?” Jada asks.

Draco shrugs. “Maybe Amelia’s finally gone ‘round the bend.”

Jada snorts and goes back to searching through the crate of books, but Draco keeps his gaze on the doorway. He holds his breath and tries to stop himself from getting his hopes up. But it turns out that he didn’t have to worry about getting his hopes up, because in an instant Harry is there in the doorway of the room. Draco lets out his breath and he closes the short distance between them as quickly possible. First he hugs Harry, so he can smell him and feel his arms around him. Then he pulls back just enough so he can look at him, and when he does so Harry bumps their noses together and grins widely.

“Hi, stranger,” Harry says. 

Draco smiles. He’s so happy he can’t think of what to say.

“I like it when I render you speechless,” Harry remarks. “You’re more enjoyable like this.”

Draco laughs softly. “Shut up, prat.”

The two of them are still staring at each other like lovesick teenagers when Amelia clears her throat. They separate enough so that they can both turn and look at her, and Amelia smiles, seeming genuinely happy for them. 

“Sorry to ruin the moment, boys, but, um,” Amelia says. She unsubtly jerks her head in Jada’s direction, where the poor girl is standing with her mouth open in shock and a book on Gellert Grindelwald limply grasped in her hand, looking like it could drop to the ground at any moment. 

“Oh, Jada,” Draco says. He and Harry aren’t embracing anymore, but they are holding hands, as neither of them are willing to let go of the other. “This is Harry. Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard of him before. Anyways, we’re, uh, close, and we haven’t see each other in a while. I hope it’s okay that he’s here.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s fine,” Jada says, shaking herself out of her shock and putting the Grindelwald book back in its crate. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. An honor, actually. I’m not sure what to do here. Should I offer you tea, or-”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Amelia cuts in. “I’ll help you with it. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” Jada nods and lets Amelia wave her out of the room. 

“Nice meeting you, Jada,” Harry says to Jada as she passes. 

Once Jada’s out of the room, Draco gives Amelia a look, one he knows she’ll recognize as worry over the secrecy of his and Harry’s relationship. “Amy, please-”

“I’ve got it handled, babe,” Amelia tells Draco. “Don’t panic.” Amelia closes the door behind herself when she leaves to go to the kitchen with Jada.

Amelia hasn’t been gone a whole second before Harry is kissing Draco. Draco kisses back, of course, with everything he’s got. After all, they have many days of not kissing to make up for. When they pull apart, they’re both smiling.

“My parents let you use the Floo?” Draco asks, sounding surprised.

Harry shakes his head. “No. Had to use the International Network.”

“You said this morning that you didn’t think you’d be able to come, even using the International.”

“I put Dean in charge of the website. I was bollocks at it anyway, and Dean’s an artist so he should be good at it, right?”

“I guess. You didn’t have to drop everything to come here, you know. I’d’ve seen you tomorrow night when I got back anyway.” Draco sounds guilty, which makes Harry frown and lean in to give him a peck on the lips. 

“Stop it, love. I came here because I love you and miss you and wanted to kiss you really, really badly,” Harry says sincerely. 

Draco smiles, satisfied with Harry’s justification for coming to Dublin. “I love you a lot. And I missed you too. It was probably worse for me than you, because I had to talk about you in interviews.” Draco laughs. “I said really stupid stuff. I sounded like a twelve year old talking about their celebrity crush.”

“Fitting, ‘cause I was your celebrity crush when you were twelve.” Draco pinches Harry for this comment, which only makes him laugh. “What kind of stupid stuff did you say?”

“I said your eyes are good eyes to have,” Draco says, hanging his head in shame.

“You give me so much shit about how I’ve got eyes that don’t function properly, but you tell interviewers that they’re good eyes to have.” Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Such a dork.”

“At least I’m not a Gryffindork,” Draco retorts.

“No, you’re just my dork,” Harry says. He pulls Draco close to him and kisses along Draco’s jaw. Draco doesn’t say anything else, just turns to kiss Harry properly on the lips, because he can’t really argue with Harry’s statement.

_ 3:29 PM May 7, 2004.  “Shear Magic” hair salon on Maxim Alley. _

Draco scrolls lazily through the Hexer web page that he has open on the computer that Nigel, Harry’s hairdresser, let him use while Nigel chops off Harry’s beautiful, long curls a few meters away.

“What’re you doing?” Harry asks from the styling chair.

Draco jerks his head up to see if Harry’s facing him, but no, Nigel is still blocking Draco’s view, and Draco’s anxiety over the haircut is not eased.

“‘M on Hexer,” Draco replies, looking back to the computer and trying not to think of how much he’ll miss Harry’s long hair.

“You don’t have a Hexer account.”

“I know, I’m on Amy’s. She gave me her password so I could post about a book signing once, and I never forgot it.”

Harry makes a sound of vague interest. “Anything particularly exciting happening on the great wide wizarding web, then?”

Draco chuckles, his eye catching another post about how Draco and Harry playing as opposing Seekers for “Quidditch for a Cause” would cause unprecedented amounts of sexual tension. “You could say that. The team lists came out for the match today, remember?”

“Just because your brain doesn’t function properly and makes you forget about interviews and meetings and all that shit, doesn’t mean that the same thing applies to me. Of course I remember that the team lists came out today.”

Draco sticks his tongue out in response, despite the fact that Harry can’t see him. “Yeah, well, everyone on Hexer is talking about it.”

“What’re they saying?”   
“Let’s see. Oh, here’s an interesting post about how imagining Archie Lawson sitting on a broomstick makes RavenClaudia16 wish he was sitting on her face. And here’s one saying that they want to see the entire teams of The Bolts have an orgy.”

Harry makes a gagging noise, and Draco smiles satisfactorily, feeling he’s gotten revenge for the comment about Draco’s brain not functioning properly. 

“Any nonsexual posts?”   
“Well, yeah, there are some of those too, but those are boring. Like, ‘I’m so proud of Harry for organizing “Quidditch for a Cause,” it’s really an amazing thing. Seeing the team lists and all the charities just makes it seem more real, and I’m kind of in awe of what an incredible impact Harry’s work will have on so many lives.’ How dull is that?”   
“A fan said that?” Harry aks, sounding skeptical but pleased at the same time.

“Sort of. I posted that a few minutes ago, from Amy’s account.”

Draco can hear the smile in Harry’s voice when he says, “Merlin, such a sap. You should’ve been put in Hufflepuff.”

“Believe me, I wish I was. Would’ve saved me from listening to Theo and Blaise making out on the bed next to mine every night for four years. Even with noise cancelling charms, the smacking sounds were loud enough to wake the dead.”

Harry laughs. “We should’ve gotten back at them for it in eighth year. Bug them with obnoxious smacking noises of our own.”

Draco scoffs. “Please, Potter. I’m a Malfoy, far too refined for smacking noises. Even if it’s only for revenge.”

Nigel interrupts their conversation to announce that he’s done with the haircut. He spins Harry’s chair so he can look at himself in the mirror, but he still stands in between Draco and Harry, preventing Draco from seeing Harry’s transformation. “I think that’s it. Pretty dashing, if I say so myself. What do you think, Potter?”   
“I like it. It’s different, feels lighter. But I think we both know that Draco’s opinion is the one that really matters.”

Nigel barks out a laugh and nods. He moves out of the way and turns Harry’s chair again, so that it’s facing Draco this time. 

Draco has a thousand snappy remarks on his tongue about wanting Harry’s long hair back, but once he sees Harry they all disappear. He forgot how fucking  _ fit  _ Harry was with short hair. Well, to be honest, Draco has always found Harry to be fit no matter what his hair looks like, but still. Draco wants to jump his bones right there in the salon.

“Well? Love? Are the reviews in yet?” Harry asks, just a hint of nervousness in his voice.   
“Harry, you look amazing.”

Harry preens, obviously quite pleased with Draco’s anwer. “Told you you’d like it.”

Draco quickly shuts down the computer and gets up from the desk he’d been sitting at so he get closer to Harry. His hair looks soft, particularly the part on top where the hair is a bit longer than the rest, and that’s probably because of the fancy drying charms Nigel had used on it. Draco wants to run his fingers through it. So he does. Harry practically purrs at the feeling of Draco’s fingers against his scalp, and Draco smirks at him. 

“It’s soft,” Draco tells him. 

Harry sighs, for once not out of exasperation but out of contentedness. “Obviously.” He and Draco share a private smile for a moment before Nigel’s voice pulls their attention away from each other.

“So the boyfriend approves?” Nigel asks, smiling slyly at the two of them as he cleans off his hair cutting scissors. 

“Yes, he approves,” Draco confirms. “Thanks Nigel. Do you want us to pay now-”

Nigel cuts Draco off with a series of “no, no, no”s. “This is free of charge,” he insists.

“Nigel, we can’t let you do that,” Harry protests.

“No, Mr. Potter, please. You and Mr. Malfoy remind me of my husband and I when we were younger.” The last of Nigel’s words are said wistfully, accompanied with a sad smile.

Draco suddenly grabs hold of Harry’s hand, feeling a pang of sadness in his gut. “Oh, Nigel. We’re so sorry for your loss. Gary was such a good man.”

Nigel nods, sad smile still in place. “I know.” There’s a beat of silence, then Nigel brightens up his expression and tone of voice. “Okay, boys, you go on now. Have some fun, enjoy being young and in love.”

Draco and Harry promise Nigel that they will, and they walk out of the salon hand in hand. When they’re on the sidewalk, heading for their car, Draco leans into Harry and whispers in his ear. “It’s so sad hearing Nigel talk about his husband.” Harry nods solemnly, giving Draco a small, soft smile that he hopes is comforting. Draco takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ll never die without me again, will you?” he says. It’s one of the few times Harry’s ever heard Draco sound afraid.

Harry’s hand tightens impossibly around Draco’s. “Never,” he tells him determinedly. “I love you,” he adds for good measure.

“Love you too,” Draco says, but he still doesn’t sound reassured, so once they’ve made it to their car, Harry pushes Draco against the car door an presses a firm kiss to his mouth. Draco melts into the kiss, deepening it and bringing his hands up to tug on Harry’s hair.

“There’s not as much hair to grab onto,” Draco says disappointedly after breaking the kiss.

“You’re complaining now, really?” Harry says disbelievingly. Draco starts to apologize, but then Harry is leaning back in and reattaching his lips to Draco’s.

A moment later, Draco pulls back again. “We probably shouldn’t be snogging in public.”

“It’s fine. There’s no paparazzi here.”

“Paps aren’t the only ones with cameras,” Draco points out. Harry sighs and reluctantly pulls himself away from Draco. “Also, it’s common courtesy to not snog in the middle of the street like horny teenagers.”

Harry shakes his head at Draco. “You’re getting boring in your old age.”

“Says the man whose idea of fun is waking me up at five in the bloody morning to look at a bird outside our window.”

“Hey, I did that once, and it was a very cool looking bird,” Harry says defensively, but his statement doesn’t stop Draco from laughing at him. It’s okay though, because Harry feels relief fill his chest. A Draco that is laughing at Harry’s expense is a million times better than a Draco who’s afraid and downcast. 

“Shut up and get in the car,” Harry tells him. After he shuts the door behind Draco, he allows himself to laugh and smile as well. He can’t believe how lucky he is.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love getting comments and kudos, so if you liked it, let me know!


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